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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484180">fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari'>callunavulgari</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, California, M/M, MerMay, Merpeople, Mild Sexual Content, Summer Vacation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 03:47:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,108</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24484180</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/callunavulgari/pseuds/callunavulgari</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>As Steve watches, the man arches one of those eyebrows and asks, “Are you <i>trying</i> to get eaten by a shark?”</p><p>Steve blinks and says, “Sharks don’t actually eat people.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>218</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettyboyporter/gifts">prettyboyporter</a>, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/flippyspoon/gifts">flippyspoon</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Squeezing in here about 30 minutes before it is no longer MerMay. Sounds about right.</p><p>So back at like the beginning of May <a href="https://flippyspoon.tumblr.com/post/617679425706819584/tracy7307-merbilly-with-a-pretty-shiny-tail">flippyspoon reblogged a thing</a> and it drifted across my dash like the shiny bauble it was and I thought wow, hey. I should write something for MerMay. I like merperson/siren fic, so why not. And because the post was about Harringrove, I was like, y'know what. Fuck it. I'll write that. Modern day Steve fucking around on a beach somewhere with an ugly hat while merperson Billy thirsts it up. </p><p>The end result is a distressing lack of of Billy showing off for Steve and most of this fic happens in the evening, but like. Eh? Merperson Billy. Tada!</p><p>A secret: I've actually got 4k of a different merperson fic between these two written, only it's canon-divergent instead of modern setting and I wrote about 3k of it today only to get blocked right before they boned. So I finished this one instead. The other one can get posted in June.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve’s been in California for three glorious weeks when he meets Billy. </p><p>Summer in Santa Monica is like being on another planet. The sights and smells are so different from what he knows that his first week there he’d spent reeling around the boardwalk in a perpetual state of culture shock, his eyes continuously drawn to the tanned, gleaming lines of hips and thighs of surfers who passed him by. </p><p>Everyone was attractive in California, it seemed. Girls with bleached hair and manicured nails sunned themselves on towels, long tanned limbs gleaming with suntan oil. Boys gathered together in the surf, straddling their boards, thick thighs visible even at a distance. </p><p>It’s enough to drive anyone to drink, so that’s exactly what Steve does, passing the warm nights with the cloying taste of coconut and rum on his tongue. The park on the pier is gorgeous at night, lit up in neon lights and smelling of fair food and sunscreen. He spends a few dizzying days getting as drunk as he can and then riding the rides until he pukes. </p><p>When that loses its luster, he goes on long, meandering walks down the boardwalk. </p><p>During the day, the beach is too crowded, full to the bursting point of laughing people and screaming children. They’re mostly tourists, but the locals stand out. It’s in the way they approach the water, boards tucked under their arms, not sparing a glance for the crowd, just making a beeline for the water. </p><p>Steve watches them a lot, trying to emulate the confident, nonchalant way that they approached the water. He's a good swimmer, but there's something daunting about how big the ocean is, stretching out to the horizon. </p><p>To Steve, who spent his childhood in and out of pools, it was strange to realize that the ocean had an altogether different rhythm. Riptides were fucking terrifying, and the first time he got caught in one, he had to fight down the urge to fight against it, remembering a conversation he’d had with one of the locals, about how you had to swim with it until you were out.</p><p>He stayed out of the water for a few days after that, and once he ventured back in, he stuck to the shallows.</p><p>He liked the beach better in the evenings, when it was quieter. </p><p>That’s when he meets Billy, when the sun has just started to dip below the horizon, turning the sky into a canvas of red, yellow, and orange. It’s a Tuesday, and Steve has spent most of the day spread out on a towel on the beach, aviators propped on his nose and sunscreen thick on his skin. </p><p>He’s wandering, a little high on the joint he’d bought off a girl in a red bikini, and is mostly just looking at the horizon when he notices movement in the water.</p><p>Steve blinks, eyes tracking the surface of the water, but there’s nothing there now, just a few white-capped waves. He shakes his head, wondering if maybe it’s time to head back to the hotel, but just as he’s turning back, it happens again. </p><p>This time, he’s paying enough attention to catch the flip of an enormous fin in the water. Steve squints, nose wrinkling, and takes a few steps closer, until the surf is lapping at his ankles. He’s in the shadow of the pier here, and there’s no one around, just a few fishermen further up the beach. </p><p>And there it is again, only this time, impossibly, there’s the flash of tanned arms and strong shoulders. </p><p>He doesn’t immediately make the jump to mermaid. After all, that would be fucking crazy. Mermaids don’t exist except in stories. They belong solely to tales of pirate ships and sunken treasure, not to a well-populated beach in Santa Monica, California. </p><p>What he does, because he’s a fucking idiot, is assume that someone is drowning and go sprinting into the sunwarmed water. </p><p>He swims fast, because there’s no time to think about why he shouldn’t go darting out into the water when the sun is setting. He doesn’t think about Robin’s voice saying things like “when the predators come out” and “feeding time.” </p><p>He doesn’t stop swimming until he’s pretty sure he’s reached the spot where they went under. Once he’s there, Steve treads water uneasily, watching for movement. He’s farther out than he usually goes and is just starting to realize that maybe he should have done something intelligent, like called for help, when something grabs his ankle. </p><p>He goes under, his yell of surprise cut off before it even gets started. He’s under for maybe a handful of seconds, nothing more than a quick dunking that he would have gotten from Tommy back home, but it’s enough to set his heart hammering. He comes up sputtering, blinking the sting of salt from his eyes, and sets his eyes on the figure treading water a couple feet away.</p><p>It’s a man - that much is immediately obvious. His shoulders are tanned and well-muscled and the setting sun glints off of golden curls. He’s got a square face with a sharp jaw, thick brows above a set of piercing blue eyes. Several golden necklaces rest just over his collarbone, the color gone ruddy with age.</p><p>He is, because Steve is still in California, impossibly attractive.</p><p>As Steve watches, the man arches one of those eyebrows and asks, “Are you<em> trying</em> to get eaten by a shark?”</p><p>Steve blinks and says, “Sharks don’t actually eat people.”</p><p>The man snorts. “Says the idiot tempting them.”</p><p>Steve frowns.  </p><p>“You’re out here, too,” he says, the words coming out a touch too defensive.</p><p>The man laughs at that, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. When he looks at Steve again, his eyes are gleaming with amusement. </p><p>“Yeah, well,” he says. “I’m<em> supposed</em> to be out here, aren’t I?”</p><p>When Steve only stares at him, the man rolls his eyes and leans in close - too close - until Steve can feel his breath on his lips. </p><p>“You’re not that bright, are you?” he whispers, his lips at Steve’s ear.</p><p>Steve’s about to protest, the indignation swelling up inside of him, but at that moment, there’s the brush of something at his ankles. The touch is more of a caress, a whisper of fin and scale, and - he probably shouldn’t make the jump. But there’s a glimmer of that same amusement in the man’s eyes and Steve remembers that flash of fin against the water, impossibly huge.</p><p>He glances down between them, at the murky water hiding what he’s reasonably sure is a fucking tail.</p><p>The man’s smile goes wider. He tilts his chin obligingly, showing off a set of fluttering gills. </p><p>“You’re-” Steve starts, his eyes wide, and then finds that he can’t make himself finish that sentence. </p><p>The man hums agreeably in the back of his throat. “Mmhmm.”</p><p>“Well, fuck,” Steve says as that tail brushes past his legs again. This time, he can make out the ghost of its shape against him, thick and heavy with muscle, scales scraping against his calves. He pauses, and then, because he has to ask, “<em>You’re</em> not planning on eating me, are you?”</p><p>The man - the fucking <em>merman</em> - chokes on another little snort. His grin widens, showing off a set of sharp white teeth. “Hardly. You’d be way too stringy.”</p><p>That was a joke. He’s pretty sure that was a joke.</p><p>“Pretty sure you’re not supposed to exist,” Steve tells him, straining his eyes as he tries to catch a glimpse of that tail. The beach is all shadow, the water made even darker by the oncoming night.</p><p>“We’re a pretty closely kept secret,” the man says with a shrug. When Steve doesn’t look away from the water he sighs. “Hey! My eyes are up <em>here</em>.”</p><p>Steve blinks, startled, and snaps his eyes up, catching the man’s gaze. </p><p>“Sorry,” he says, mostly reflex.</p><p>The man watches him a little longer, then rolls his eyes again. “Will you stop staring at the water if I just show you?”</p><p>Steve swallows, then nods. </p><p>“My name is Billy, by the way,” the man tells Steve, rolling over until he’s floating on his back, hands behind his head. “You know, since I’m showing off the goods and everything.”</p><p>Steve’s too busy staring to respond, his eyes wide as he takes in the sheer fucking breadth of what’s before him. The tail is long, just as thick as Steve had suspected, the color impossibly vibrant - hues of reds, golds, and blues running along the length of it. The delicate tailfin at the end is a deep red, edged in a blue so bright that it glows. </p><p>Just as quickly as it had appeared, the tail is gone, hidden again by the water. Steve’s eyes dart back towards Billy. </p><p>“Now it’s your turn,” Billy tells him, an attractive smirk on his lips.</p><p>When Steve flushes, Billy bursts into laughter. </p><p>“I meant your <em>name</em>,” he says breathlessly. “Not your bits, Christ.”</p><p>Steve flushes deeper and wonders if it’s too late to drown himself. </p><p>“It’s Steve,” he says.</p><p>Billy turns a wide smile on him. “Well, Steve. It’s been a real blast, but you should probably get out of the water before you start to prune.”</p><p>“Will I see you again?”</p><p>The question is out before he can second guess himself, and Billy pauses, the wide grin shrinking into something a little more real. Smaller, pleaded. “Do you want to?”</p><p>Steve thinks about it. He’s got another week in California, before it’s back to the mindless drudgery of small town life in Hawkins, Indiana. He has next to no plans, because he hadn’t realized that coming to California with Robin to see her girlfriend would effectively mean he was sexiled for the duration of the trip. </p><p>“Yeah,” he says. “You know, I think I do.”</p><p> </p><p><br/>When he comes back to the hotel later, Robin takes one look at him before both of her eyebrows hit her hairline. </p><p>Steve is still dripping with water, and there’s a dazed look in his eyes that have nothing to do with the last bit of weed still in his system.</p><p>“What the hell happened to you?” she asks.</p><p>He laughs once, a single little ha, before dropping into the armchair near the door. </p><p>“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”</p><p> </p><p><br/>They made plans to meet the next evening. Same time, same place, Billy had told him with a wink before he vanished under the water with a single powerful flick of his tail. So here Steve is again, in the shadow of the pier with the sun slowly sinking towards the horizon. </p><p>He’d spent the day doing the usual things, but found himself distracted at every turn, his eyes constantly seeking out the sea, as if he could catch a glimpse of Billy out there. </p><p>Now that’s he’s here, pants rolled up to his calves and ankle-deep in the surf, he feels a little stupid. What if Billy doesn’t come back? What if Steve smoked some really bad weed and hallucinated the whole thing? What if the only reason Billy didn’t eat him before was because he wasn’t hungry? </p><p>“Uh-oh,” a voice says from behind him. “That’s not a good look.”</p><p>Steve turns. </p><p>Billy is standing there, his blonde hair pulled back into a knot on top of his head. He’s wearing swim trunks and a thin white tank top, his biceps even more impressive out of the water. </p><p>He tilts his head, a slight smirk on his face. “You weren’t planning on ditching me, were you?”</p><p>Steve blinks at him. “You have legs.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Billy tells him, his voice drawling and bored. “I’m told you need those to do something called ‘walking.’ Quick, am I doing it right?”</p><p>He balances on one foot, eyes wide in mock seriousness. </p><p>Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t know you could grow legs.”</p><p>Billy raises an eyebrow, sidling a few steps closer to Steve. He leans into him, getting right up into his space and props most of his weight against Steve’s shoulder. When he speaks, his breath disturbs the hair curling around Steve’s ear. “You know, yesterday you didn’t know we existed. I’m willing to wager there’s a couple things you don’t know about us.”</p><p>Steve considers this, staring down at Billy’s bare feet in the sand. There isn’t a trace of scaling there, just long tanned legs narrowing into perfectly normal feet.</p><p>“Yeah,” he says, shrugging. “True enough. You’ll have to fill me in.”</p><p>“And give away our secrets?” Billy asks, his tone still playful. He pushes off of Steve and paces a few feet away, stooping to pick up a cracked conch shell that had been passed over by the shell hunters. “Never.”</p><p>A minute passes. Steve coughs.</p><p>“So,” he says. “Since you’ve magically grown yourself a pair of legs… what do you want to do?”</p><p>Billy shrugs. “I’ve done most of it before. We can go to the park if you want. I like their funnel cakes.”</p><p>They go to the park. Steve’s obviously been before, but he finds that it’s different with someone at his side. Billy is… strange. Steve keeps watching him out of the corner of his eye, like he’s expecting Billy to suddenly sprout tentacles and start eating people. But Billy is disturbingly normal. He fits in this place like it comes naturally to him, like he’s been doing it his whole life, approaching the counter at Beach Burger and ordering like he’s just another person, rummaging in his trunks for a battered ten dollar bill. </p><p>He eats it mostly normally too, if you can ignore the fact that it’s dripping ketchup down his chin.</p><p>“You’ve done this a lot, haven’t you?” Steve asks him. </p><p>Billy pauses, the burger halfway to his mouth. He lowers the burger, then carefully shrugs. </p><p>“Yeah,” he says, looking uncomfortable. “Sometimes I like to get away. The human world is a nice distraction.”</p><p>“Family problems?”</p><p>If anything, Billy looks even more uncomfortable. His expression tightens, eyes flaring hot with anger before he visibly shrugs it off, the tension creeping out of him in increments. “You could say that.”</p><p>Steve waits, and after another moment, Billy sighs and sets down his burger. </p><p>“My dad is human. I spent a good quarter of my life on land, until my mom realized he was a piece of shit and took us home.” His nose crinkles up in distaste, something like a sneer twisting his lips. With another shrug, he quietly admits,  “It could have been worse. She could have forgotten to take me back with her.”</p><p>“Then why-” Steve starts, and Billy glances up at him sharply. His eyes narrow.</p><p>“We don’t always see eye to eye. She’s great, but she doesn’t want me back on land. But sometimes, I miss the sky. The food. The music. So I come here.”</p><p>Steve cocks his head. “Have you ever met another human before?”</p><p>Billy smiles sweetly, batting his lashes. “You asking if you’re my first?”</p><p>Steve shrugs, refusing to be cowed. “Maybe. Am I?”</p><p>“First human… not so much,” Billy admits, taking another bite of his burger. He glances up from beneath his lashes. “You are the first one who knows what I am though.”</p><p>“So, you don’t usually frolic in heavily populated areas during the summer?” Steve teases, and Billy rolls his eyes. </p><p>“Please, you got lucky.”</p><p>“More like you messed up.”</p><p>Billy snorts. “Please, I never fuck up. All of my risks are carefully calculated. Maybe I just saw you there on the beach and thought you looked lonely.”</p><p>“And you thought, hey, what the hell. Let’s keep him company.”</p><p>Billy smiles. His eyes are searing. “Something like that.”</p><p>They’re quiet for a while after that, finishing the rest of their burgers in silence before dumping their wrappers in the nearby trash can. There’s some 90’s bop playing over the speakers, something generic and peppy. It reminds him of roller skating rinks and the smell of popcorn. </p><p>“Do you want to get out of here?” he asks.</p><p>Billy blinks at him. “And go where?”</p><p>Steve shrugs. “Boardwalk?”</p><p>Billy watches him for a moment, thoughtful. </p><p>“I’ve got a better idea,” he says. “Have you ever heard of uber?”</p><p>Steve blinks at him, and then slowly, he starts to laugh.</p><p> </p><p><br/>Steve has no idea where the hell Billy is taking them. When the uber had finally arrived, Billy had hustled Steve into the back seat, then spoken in low tones to their driver about wherever the fuck their destination was. Steve should probably care more that a creature straight out of a fairytale is spiriting him away somewhere, but he couldn’t give a fuck. The way he figures, if Billy had wanted to eat him he could have just done it that first day in the water.</p><p>He watches the night sky as they drive, idly watching palm trees pass them by. Billy’s knee is pressed into his. It’s distracting.</p><p>When they finally arrive, the uber driver looks at them skeptically, but doesn’t protest when Billy passes him a ten. He just shrugs and drives off, leaving Steve and Billy alone at the entrance to a dark trail. </p><p>Steve squints, but even with the light of the moon, he can’t see much of the trail beyond the enormous bushes flanking it. Despite his confidence in the car, a frisson of unease darts down his spine.</p><p>“You’d let me know if you were planning on killing me, right?”</p><p>Billy shoots him a look that’s part glare, part disbelief, then pauses, turning to look at the trail again. His expression twists like he’s maybe reevaluating what this might look like.</p><p>“Okay, fine,” Billy admits. “Maybe it looks a little sketchy, but if I wanted to murder you I definitely wouldn’t drag you all the way out here to do it.”</p><p>Steve makes a tiny skeptical noise in the back of his throat, scrubbing his foot through the white sand that marks the trail. “Sure, unless this is actually your dumping ground.”</p><p>Billy makes a huffing noise and steps past him, vanishing into the darkness. Steve can just barely make out his silhouette in the dark as he calls over his shoulder, “Feel free to get another uber back if you’re scared.”</p><p>What the hell, Steve thinks. In for a penny and all that.</p><p>The trail is dark, the gleam of the sand under his feet the only thing that he can really make out in the dark. There are fireflies lighting up the night around them, little flares of light pockmarking the dark. </p><p>Billy sidles up next to him. “Boo.”</p><p>Steve rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”</p><p>“It’s not far,” Billy promises him, bumping their shoulders together. </p><p>“Better not be,” Steve murmurs, tripping over something in the dark and catching himself on Billy, splaying his palm out over warm shoulder.</p><p>“Poor baby,” Billy whispers, still sounding teasing. </p><p>True to his word though, the trail doesn’t last forever. After about ten minutes, they clear the bushes and the moon comes into stark relief, illuminating the stretch of quiet, sandy beach before them. </p><p>It’s just a beach, white sand and churning waves in the distance, but there’s something different about this one. It’s quieter, without the hustle and bustle of people or the screams and laughter from children on the pier. And what’s more, it’s perfectly hidden. </p><p>“So this is your dumping ground,” Steve sighs and Billy chokes on a laugh, punching him in the shoulder. </p><p>“You fucking- no, you idiot. It’s really just a beach.”</p><p>“A private beach,” Billy adds when Steve still doesn’t say anything. He rolls his eyes. “Look, just come on.”</p><p>He seizes hold of Steve’s wrist and begins towing him towards the water. It’s darker out here, without the glare of the lights from the pier, and a hint of fear slides down his spine. But Billy’s smiling, and it’s- it’s infectious, so Steve follows him. </p><p>They’re up to their calves in the water before Billy lets go of his wrist, spinning to face him. </p><p>“You realize that we could have gone swimming back in town, right?” Steve asks. “Could have saved ourselves the uber money.”</p><p>Billy sighs. “Look, are you going to just bitch this whole time? Because I could still drown you if that’ll make you feel better.”</p><p>Steve narrows his eyes and Billy makes a quiet noise - half frustration, half amusement - and throws up his hands. </p><p>“We could have gone swimming back in Santa Monica, yeah,” he agrees, stepping backwards into the water. He keeps going, the water creeping higher and higher up his body, until it’s licking at his chest. He grins at Steve with sharp teeth and reaches out, until he finds Steve’s belt hoops. His eyes are bright. “But then, I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”</p><p>He yanks, and Steve loses his balance, tumbling into him. His arms go out, clutching around Billy’s shoulder’s and Billy laughs at him, delighted, when Steve clings. </p><p>“You’re too fucking easy, man,” he says, gleefully wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. </p><p>Steve’s still trying to steady his breathing, his heartbeat uneven in his chest. “You’re an asshole.”</p><p>“Mmhmm,” Billy murmurs, his fingers slipping slyly down Steve’s waist, until the pads of his thumb are stroking the tender skin just under his waistband. He makes another quiet noise under his breath, this one tinged with pleasure. He leans in and places a tender kiss to the place where Steve's neck meets his shoulder. </p><p>Steve licks his suddenly dry lips.</p><p>“Okay,” he says. “I’m starting to see your game now. You dragged me all the way down here just so you could seduce me.”</p><p>Billy leans back a little, just far enough that Steve can still feel his breath on his skin. </p><p>“Are you complaining?” he whispers, his hands dropping lower, until they’re cupping Steve’s ass. His breath tickles Steve’s ear when he leans back in, kissing wetly down the curve of his throat. Steve’s breathing hitches. </p><p>“Not complaining exactly,” he gasps, biting down on his lip sharply when Billy sucks a mark into the skin above his nipple. “Just ah, trying to get your angle.”</p><p>Billy snorts a laugh, glancing up at him with dancing eyes. </p><p>“My angle?” he asks, shaking his head. “How’s this for an angle: I want to fuck you.”</p><p>Steve swallows. “That’s certainly... direct.”</p><p>Billy shrugs. “I like pretty things. You’re pretty and I think I could make you come. Interested?”</p><p>Steve chokes on a hysterical laugh. “A day ago, I didn’t even know you were real. And today you wanna fuck?”</p><p>Billy stares back at him, placid, waiting, so Steve sighs, getting himself together and very slowly, pointedly, drags their hips together. It’s a tease, really. Their trunks are too thick to feel much, but it’s enough to feel every inch of Billy against him, the press of him hot in the crease of Steve’s thigh.</p><p>Steve watches with interest as Billy’s eyes darken, the pupils swelling and eating up all that pretty blue.</p><p>“I think you know I’m interested,” he whispers.</p><p>Billy grins at him, then tugs him in for a searing kiss. It’s a great kiss, all things considered. Deep and hot, all teeth and tongue, and Steve forgets for a while that there’s water lapping at their chests until a wayward wave nearly knocks them apart.</p><p>Steve laughs, fingers caught on Billy’s hips as they stumble back a few steps. </p><p>“Too bad you’re human,” Billy tells him, scraping his teeth across Steve’s jaw line. “Sex under the waves is really hot.”</p><p>Steve chokes on a moan and doesn’t think about it too hard. If he thinks about it too hard he’s going to start asking questions about the shape of Billy’s dick when he’s not in a pretty human package and then they’ll never get around to actually fucking. </p><p>“I’m sure,” he says, his voice strained.</p><p>Billy pulls back again to look at him and Steve- Steve is only human, okay. He is human and in California with a beautiful boy who also happens to be part fish. So maybe he is a little easy, but he’s on vacation and has been sexiled for most of the last few weeks. He deserves this, fish dick or not.</p><p>“All right,” he says. “How do you want me?”</p><p>Slowly, Billy starts to grin. </p><p>“Tell me,” he whispers playfully. “Have you ever been sucked off by someone who doesn’t need to breathe?”</p><p>Steve closes his eyes. Takes deep breaths.</p><p>It's going to be a long week and he's planning to make the most of it.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="https://callunavulgari.tumblr.com/">My tumblr.</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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